Time Will Tell
by Malabrigo
Summary: Liz Whitaker has taken over as the head traveling nurse for the WWE. With a locker room full of challenging personalities and a rigorous travel schedule, will she be able to keep afloat amidst the personal and professional demands facing her? No one is intentionally trying to drive her insane, save for one individual.
1. Chapter 1

"There." Anna handed Bryan an ice pack. "Ice only. I don't want you putting any heat on that, okay?" Bryan Danielson had a particularly rough match earlier in the night with Randy Orton leaving him needing a little care.

Bryan nodded. "So, is this the last ice pack you're ever going to hand out? Am I the last WWE Superstar that you will ever treat backstage? The last that will ever receive your TLC?" He decided to really ham it up with her last day with the company. Anna had taken exceptional care of Bryan, and all the superstars, over the past few years.

She rubbed her belly. "Hopefully. With this little guy being so active tonight I'd love to just sit down put my feet up. My ankles are like softballs." She stepped from foot to foot to alleviate the pressure.

"When are you due?" He looked her over. Anna didn't seem to be all that big.

"Not until late September, but I'm entering my third trimester so I can't fly anymore. That's, like, 75% of this job." Sensing his next question, she jumped to answer. "And, no, we haven't picked out a name yet."

"May I suggest 'Bryan'?" he laughed.

Anna smiled. "You can suggest anything you want. Doesn't mean Jake and I have to use it." She took Bryan's hand and went to place it on her stomach. "He's still kicking. Maybe I will name him Bryan."

"We're really going to miss you around here," he said. "I still can't believe you're not coming back this time." Anna had only taken a few months off after the birth of her first son, but she was feeling more maternal this time around and, feeling like she missed so much from her first son's few years, really wanted to watch her children grow up together.

"I'm going to miss you guys. You better have a big ass cake for me tonight. And then another one for everyone else."

Bryan hopped up off the table. "What about your replacement?"

As if on a cue, a frazzled Liz Whitaker stumbled through the door sputtering an apology. "Sorry, I'm late. My flight was delayed and then we circled the airport for what felt like forever. And then the cab driver took like all these turns. I've never been here before, but I'm pretty sure..."

"...Liz? Liz, it's okay," Anna laughed. She had remembered Liz emphasizing her punctuality during their interview. When asked of her weakness, she said she had an ability to ramble when she was nervous. The girl knows herself too well, Anna thought during Liz's rapid explanation. "We've all been the victim of travel shenanigans at one point or another. Liz, I'd like you to meet Bryan Danielson. He's one of the guys on the roster."

Bryan cleared his throat. "I believe you mean 'WWE Superstar.'" He and Anna erupted in laughter while Liz stared between them trying to muster up an appropriate reaction.

"Sorry, call all these guys 'Superstars.' They need the pats on the back constantly." She rolled her eyes.

"We're a modest group," Bryan explained as he made his way for the door.. "I'll see you out there."

"The good thing is you made it just in time for my going away celebration. It's time for cake," she laughed giddily.

Liz removed her jacket and pushed her suitcase into the corner of the room. "That's a pretty great start to my first day.."

"You also look a little weary after all that traveling. You could use the sugar rush."

Dr. Richard Sampson poked his head through the open doorway. "Anna? Can I get your help with this? I need you to do these sutures for Ambrose," he ordered. " I have to run back out to ringside."

Liz looked to Anna. "I can do it. You go and enjoy your party."

Bryan poked his head back in. "Anna? Everyone's waiting for you."

"Go," Liz urged. "I can do this." Liz reached for the box of latex gloves located on the counter. Hearing disheveled footsteps behind her, she turned to speak "Hi, I'm..."

"...I already told him I don't want any fucking stitches. It's a small cut." Liz ignored his comment and reached for his hand to check the wound herself. "Did you hear what I said?" he asked through the greasy hair covering his face. A combination of frustration and pain was passing through him. It was then he took note of her. Her light brown hair was braided over her shoulder in an unfamiliar way. Her lips were slightly pink from gloss, but the mascara had rubbed off under her eyes. He cursed the loose grey v-neck shirt that revealed nothing to him. He was even slightly disgusted by the khaki pants she wore. Wincing slightly when her thumb brushed over the open wound, he seemed to calm down.

"Sorry," she replied sheepishly. "I just wanted to get a look at it myself. You need stitches...um..Ande..."

"Ambrose. Dean Ambrose. I sound like fucking James Bond," he said sighing heavily. "Are you the new Anna?" To say she was intimidated was an understatement. This man clearly couldn't care less about who she was or what she was there to do.

Thankfully he couldn't see her roll her eyes. "I'm the new nurse, yes. I'm Liz. And you, Dean Ambrose, need stitches." She picked up his non injured hand to illustrate her point. "This part of your hand is never really dormant. It's just going to keep splitting open if I don't close it up now. Six quick stitches, one large band aid and then you can leave." He pursed his lips in frustration. "Look," she picked up her water bottle. "See how this moves when I pick up a water bottle? You're going to end up with a bloody beer bottle later on. Okay?"

He ran his tongue along his back teeth. "Don't you just have some of that liquid skin glue shit you can put on it?" She shook her head. "And a lollipop?"

Liz walked over to her purse and searched through it's contents. "I have an old crushed candy cane and a half eaten bag of carrots." She lifted the tasty prizes up for his viewing and balanced them back and forth.

He gestured towards her left hand. "I'll take the candy cane."

"Good, I still want the carrots." She tossed them back in her bag.

Ambrose fiddled with the thick cellophane of the wrapper. "Could you?" She turned to see him smiling, devilishly. He knew he was getting under her skin. After a few moments of struggling, she dumped the pieces in his good hand. "Thanks." The smile remained. She began cleaning the area with an alcohol prep pad. "So, when did you start?"

She didn't look up to meet his gaze. "About fifteen minutes ago."

He tried to lock eyes with her, but she refused to look up. Instead, she was fixated on getting him stitched up and out of her sight as soon as possible. "Well, do you like it so far?"

"It's a blast." He loved that he was getting under her skin. The sound of the Candy Cane swirling in his mouth and clacking against his teeth was going to drive her insane. "Tell me how this happened."

He bit down hard on a larger piece of candy. "Exposed turnbuckle. I put my hand up to prevent my head from smashing into it and I caught it on the small latch."

"Sounds nasty," she winced.

His eyes widened. "Yeah, apparently, I need stitches," he joked.

"Be nice to me," she said as she began stitching up his cut. Normally, she could do this with her eyes closed, but his incessant complaining heightened her nerves. She took a deep breath as she tied off the thread. Hearing her request, he kept the talking and chewing to a minimum. He stared down to admire her work when she went back to the counter to grab a band aid. "Don't take this off for 24 hours," she said placing the bandage over the stitched up area. "And make sure not to get this area wet. Come back on Monday and I'll take a look at it and put a clean bandage on it." She handed him an additional bandage should the current one need to be replaced.

"Thanks," he said as he scratched the back of his head. "Sorry I gave you so much shit earlier."

Turning to clean up the area of her equipment, she shrugged. "It's fine. Was that some kind of test?"

"No, that's just me being an asshole," he winked at her. "Goodnight, nurse."

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**Something a little different, but also a little the same :) I'm curious to know what you guys thought of the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed! Also, I'm hoping to wrap up or update my other stories soon! **


	2. Chapter 2

Liz could feel the anxiety surging through her veins as she arrived solo for her first house show. The atmosphere had a completely different feeling from the Smackdown tv taping. There was no television crew running rampant, no pyrotechnics being set off, and without the big wigs walking around backstage, a lighter, more relaxed roster of Superstars and Divas.

She smiled politely as she passed by people she had met on Tuesday, but had yet to retain the names of. In her makeshift office she found a note from Dr. Sampson with a list of people to check in with in regards to previous injuries. At the top of the list was to bring an ice pack to Seth Rollins. After asking a few crew members for a physical description and his whereabouts, she was directed to catering.

Scanning the room, she again saw a few familiar faces, but only one person she recognized. Dean Ambrose was leaning back in a folding chair chatting casually with a few of his acquaintances including Seth Rollins. Thankfully, his two tone hair gave him away.

Feeling her gaze on him, he shot her look from across the room. Ambrose was the last person she felt like dealing with at that moment, knowing full well that he would give her a hard time for interrupting their conversation with such a meaningless medical issue.

Rollins leaned in to the table. "Thats her, isn't it?" Ambrose nodded. "She's just doing what she has to do, dude. And she's coming over here so be nice to her."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. He was about to say something smart, but she bypassed him and headed straight for Rollins. "Hi, I don't think we've met yet. I'm Anna's replacement, Liz Whitaker. Dr. Sampson left a note asking me to bring you an ice pack and just report back to him about your elbow.." She reached down and grabbed his left arm, wrapping the ice pack around and attaching the velcro. "How's the recovery?"

"It's feeling better, thank you." He directed his attention to Ambrose. "How very nice of you to bring that over to me." His statement was meant to invoke politeness from his colleague, but all he got was a glance in the opposite direction to avoid the entire situation.

Liz's eyes darted between the two of them, a look of confusion settled on her face. "Right. Well, let me know if you need a new one after your match tonight." The other two men at the table, known as Roman Reigns and Antonio Cesaro, warmly introduced themselves to Liz. She explained that Anna had given her a guide and that she would make a great effort to learn their real names and wrestling names. They insisted that she just refer to them by their wrestling names, like all other crew members. It served to be a lot less confusing.

"Don't worry. You'll figure all this out," Reigns said. "What were you doing before this?"

"I've spent the last three years working as a traveling nurse. I love the traveling part, but began to hate the moving every three months part. I needed to set roots back down at home anyway." Her eyes scanned the table as she spoke. Everyone had their attention focused on her except Ambrose, who looked bored and frustrated with her presence.

"Where's home for you?" Rollins asked.

"Tampa, Florida," she said. "I just had to move back a few weeks ago."

Roman gestured to the table. "That's where we all live," he explained.

"I know that WWE is kinda based there or something, right? That's how I found out about the job." No one dared to correct her, but she looked around the table at all the blank faces staring back at her. Dean made a show out of rubbing his temples like he was trying to send her away. His immature behavior caught her eye. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Dean said flippantly. The sound of his fingers tapping on the wooden table was barely breaking the awkward silence he had caused.

Feeling embarrassed, but unsure as to why, Liz felt it was time to make her exit. "Well, it was nice to finally meet you guys."

"My hand is fine," Ambrose called out after her.

"Good, I'm glad. Come see me Monday and I'll remove the stitches," she responded without turning around.

"That went well," Seth laughed. "She's nice. What are you giving her so much shit for?"

"Haven't you figured it out by now?" Roman asked the table. "He's a dick to the girls he actually likes." Dean chuckled. "If I had to guess, I'd say you went in there and were a dick. She sassed you and now you're a weird combination of pissed off and turned on."

"No, dude, you've got it all wrong," Dean argued.

"She hasn't even been here a week, dude," Rollins interrupted. "Give her at least a month before you decide to make her life miserable."

Dean leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head delicately balancing himself on the back legs. "It's not like I don't have ways to fill my time," he said. "Tonight my time will be spent with Melanie."

A collective groan spread across the table. "Do we even want to know?" Seth asked.

Ambrose shrugged. "Probably not. She's just some chick I've known for like five years. I see her when we pass through here. She's nothing special, but she just fucks so well. It's like her pussy just sucks my dick right in." He leaned in and spoke softly. "She does this thing with her..."

"...I noticed you didn't have anything covering your stitches." Dean turned to see Liz standing there holding a bandage. "Make sure you wash it before you put this on. Antibacterial soap. Keep it covered, please," He stared up at her, stunned, wondering just how much she had heard. "Oh, and keep it covered tonight, too." Dean could only nod in response. "Come see me if you guys get banged up."

Ambrose stood to follow her, eager to clarify the unflattering remarks he made. It took him a few quick moments to catch up to her. He stopped short just as her phone rang.

"Hi Dave, what's up? Yeah, no that's fine. There are some grapes in the freezer for her if she's thirsty. I don't want her to wet the bed tonight so don't give her any water. Sure. No problem. Bye." She sighed heavily as she placed the phone back in her back pocket and continued her walk to the nurses area, Ambrose following closely behind.

Suddenly her phone rang again. "Yeah, Dave? If she's going to give you a hard time give her a small glass. No juice though. Just don't even give it as an option." She laughed at something Dave said on the other line and Ambrose found himself growing jealous. "It's okay. I know my being away again is an adjustment for her. Okay, bye." He watched from around a cinder block corner as Liz watched the screen of her phone fade to black, no doubt she was waiting for the phone to ring immediately again with another concern.

When she felt enough time had lapsed she continued on her way, but Ambrose didn't follow. Assuming now that she was married with a child his interest in pursuing her was waning. This was no longer fun to him.

He reached into his pocket to pull out the band aid she had given him, but it was nowhere to be found. He retraced his steps back to catering. Someone must've picked it up and tossed it in the garbage and he cursed under his breath at that realization. Dean headed back to the nurses area and listened quietly outside the door while Liz was on another phone call.

"...I can hear her yelling in the background. I think it's just time you put her to bed. I'll talk to you later.. The show's about to start."

"Liz?" He had snuck up on her so well she jumped, clutching her phone against her chest. "I already lost the band aid." She nodded and reached into her bag to pull out another bandage. It was then he noticed her naked ring finger. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," she smiled. She watched as he held the bandaid between his fingers. "I told you to keep it covered."

He laughed. "I know. And I am going to. I always practice safe sex."

She blushed slightly. "No, the finger."

"Well, I imagine I'll be using that also.." She grabbed the band aid from his fingers, tired of watching him twirl it around. He watched as she carefully swabbed the area with a prep bad and unwrapped the band aid. She was careful to place it directly on the stitched up area. She did a much better job than he ever would have.

"That's an expensive bag," he said, gesturing to the Louis Vuitton purse on the counter. "Did your husband buy that for you?"

"It's not mine," she said, a look of disgust spread across her face. "Dr. Samson's wife has tagged along for this weekend, but thanks for assuming I could never afford something like that on my own."

"So, you don't have a husband?" He missed her point entirely.

"What?" Her frustration was apparent. "No, I'm not married. That's none of your business though." She reached into her actual purse, a non descript leather hobo bag, and pulled out a small mirror lightly dabbing at the small mascara marks under her eyes.

"I noticed you get those, um, make up marks there," he said. "Is it from crying?"

Her frustration with him was growing. "Are you serious?" He nodded. Liz mulled over the idea of sharing with him just exactly what she was dealing with at home, but refrained. She was not the type to bring her home life into work with her. "It's just from rubbing my eyes and being tired. That's all really. I'm not used to weekly plane rides and four hour plus drives. It's just an adjustment. Well, have fun a good time out there tonight."

"Yeah, I, uh, don't think I'm going to see that girl tonight," he said.

"I meant the match," she said. "I don't care what you do outside this building." The familiar sound of her cell phone ringing again stirred the silence between them. "I need to take that," she said before removing the phone from her purse. "Remind Seth that I want my ice pack back. We'll remove those stitches tomorrow."

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**Thanks for all the reviews on the previous chapter! I love reading what you guys think. I'm hoping to really ramp up this story over the next few weeks so keep checking back for updates!**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean reached for the Monster energy drink nestled in the center console of their rental car. The Shield was two hours into their over four hour drive from Lexington to Fort Wayne. At this point in his travels, every city looked the same, especially at night. He wanted to avoid driving through his hometown of Cincinnati, but it was the shortest route. He had taken a hard bump earlier in the evening and hoped he could be the one to stretch out in back, but Roman had been up the night previous with his daughter after she had a nightmare and Seth hated driving at night. Besides, when Dean had asked Seth he argued that Dean knew the route better.

He was inclined to stop as he drove over the familiar overpasses looking down on his hometown where everyone knew him as Jonathan Good, his given name. He remembered the convenience store where a neighbor kid bought him his first pack of cigarettes, he drove past the tall highway sign for the 24 hour diner he used to go to after local indies shows with the rest of the card, and thought about his mom. He never thought about her.

They didn't talk often. If she called, he usually avoided her phone calls. It was easy to do since she was so removed from his life she didn't know any better. When they did speak, they didn't have much to talk about. He cringed at the thought that one of these days she would ask him for money, but he knew she was too proud. All through his life he'd watched her battle drugs and alcohol, but mostly the latter over the past few years. Despite her addictions she always provided for him. He never felt as though he went without and he somewhat appreciated the way in which he was raised. He never took anything for granted and knew that everyone had their own shit to deal with. On nights that she'd come home shitfaced or bring home a new boyfriend, he didn't flinch. To him it always could've been worse.

"You okay, man?" Seth's eyes fluttered open to check on his driver. "Do you need me to take over or anything?"

He shifted in his seat. "Nah, I'm good," he said. "I might need to take a leak soon, but I can wait."

Seth looked out the window trying to make heads or tails of their location, but all he saw was darkness and the occasional distant street light. "Where are we?"

"Closing in on Dayton. I'll pull off once we get through the city."

"Does that mean we're already passed Cincinnati?" Dean nodded as he stared straight ahead at the road. Out of everyone on the roster, Seth knew him the best. Evne though they were both from the midwest, they worked for different promotions. Dean, working as Jon Moxley, was more scrappy and hardcore whereas Seth flourished, as Tyler Black, as a high flyer in promotions like Ring of Honor. Seth learned early on that Dean didn't open up often. He only talked about three things: wrestling, booze, and women. At least they had wrestling. "When was the last time you talked to her?"

"She called me a few days ago, but didn't leave a message. I'll call her back when I get a chance." A belch escaped as he relaxed back in his seat. Dean kept his eyes firmly on the road knowing full well that Seth was ready to unleash the same family values conversation they'd had in the past. Dean constantly had to remind himself that their home life situations were completely different and Seth was trying to act in his best interest. Still, this was a conversation he never wanted to have with anyone. He spotted a sign for a rest area in a few miles. "I can't wait. We'll pull off here."

/

The previous nights drive had taken a toll on Liz. Not having yet formed a bond with anyone, she did the entire four and a half hour drive by herself. She almost wished that Dave had called her during this time with some type of crisis to help break up the time. Instead, she found herself completely zoning out and contemplating just how long she could keep this whole schedule going.

She glanced in the rear view mirror of her rental sedan making sure to wash the tired mascara marks out from under her eyes. "Asshole," she muttered under her breath. She hadn't realized just how noticeable they were until he had pointed them out. She watched in the mirror as Dean, Seth, and Roman hopped out of their SUV. "Fucking asshole," she muttered again at the sight of Dean.

When they were out of view she popped the trunk and exited the car eager to retrieve her belongings and make it into the arena without having to face Dean. "Need help with that?" Liz turned to see Dean standing behind her. "It looks heavy."

"I'm fine," she snapped back. Dean put his hands up to surrender and watched as Liz struggled to lift the suitcase out of the trunk. "See? I got it." She stumbled backward as the suitcase fell to the ground.

"And gracefully. So, when should I swing by?" he asked.

Liz marched towards the entrance of the arena eager to leave him behind. "For what?"

"My stitches," he said. "This shit has got to come out today it is driving me crazy." She turned and grabbed his hand in hers. He screamed causing her to jump. A fit of laughter overtook him and she couldn't help but laugh at how he'd set her up.

Slowly, she peeled back the band-aid. "You don't even notice them, do you?" He smirked. "Let's take them out now." She motioned for him to follow her.

"Jon!" Both Liz and Ambrose jumped at the shriek that echoed down the hallway. Stephanie, the Head of Catering, was marching towards him at a rapid pace, her heels clicking sharply on the cement floor. "I sent you, like, three text messages this week. Why haven't you responded?"

Any man would've been intimidated or fluxumed by Stephanie's approach, but Ambrose stood firm. "Oh, you know, I, like, don't really look at my phone," he said. Stephanie, arms folded across her chest, took a few steps closer to him. Ambrose sulked against the wall and took her incoherent verbal punishment. "It's just not gonna work out," Liz thought she heard him whisper, but she was trying her best not to pay attention.

"Well, what's this?" she pointed over at Liz.

The question was obviously proposed to Ambrose, but Liz found herself jumping in the middle of their conversation. "This," Liz pointed to herself. "Is Liz. I replaced Anna. And Jon is here to have his stitches removed." Embarrassed, Stephanie took off without an additional comment leaving Ambrose to breathe a sigh of relief. "Jon?"

Flustered, he ran a hand over his face. If anything was going to ruin any chance he had with Liz, that was it. Back to square one. "That's my real name," he shot back at Liz. " Look, what you saw..."

"...was none of my business," she said. She began to laugh. "She was pissed though. I think the last person you want to piss off is the head of catering." He didn't share in her laughter. "Come on, it's funny."

"It's not what you think," he said.

"You shouldn't care what I think anyway." She unzipped the duffel bag that had been unpacked by the road crew from the night before and began unpacking her supplies.

"I shouldn't?" he asked. "What makes you say that?"

"I barely know you." He raised his eyebrows. She pulled her scissors out of their case. "Well, I've only met you twice. The first time you were mean, but I'm just going to chalk that up to your scrape. And this is the second tale of you falling all over any woman that will look at you." He couldn't help but chuckle. "You asked. And again, I don't care about what you do." The way he looked at her silently was beginning to make her uncomfortable. His bulky arms was folded across his chest. Liz had no idea what was coming next. Part of her wanted him to grab her and throw her up against the wall just so she could push him away and reject him unlike the other women before her. But she didn't trust herself to push him away.

His heavy sigh echoed throughout the room. "So, then what conclusions would you draw about me Liz?"

Liz snapped out of her trance and went back to the task at hand. "I don't want to play this game with you."

"It's not a game," he said flippantly. "I'm just curious as to the type of first impression I make."

"A terrible one." He stared at her and motioned for her to continue. "I think you grew up with a father that never taught you how to treat a woman. My guess is that you grew up never knowing the value of anything...of relationships and family. I think you were alone a lot and couldn't trust or rely anyone except yourself. Probably feel like you don't deserve anything good in your life unless you've worked hard for it. Am I right, Jon?"

"Maybe a little." Fuck, she was good. Was he really that transparent? "Let me psychoanalyze you."

Liz laughed." You're proven that you're terrible at this. I'd rather you didn't." She grabbed his hand and began undoing the sutures.

"I'd say that you grew up with every opportunity handed to you. And now, that your fancy education has been paid for, you want to show the world how self sufficient you are." Liz's hands began shaking so she thought it best to put the scissors down. "Meanwhile your trust fund is always there for you to fall back on if you get tired with working.." Liz was growing pissed over how scarily accurate he was. She always became defensive when people brought up money to her since she worked so hard to feel less guilty over her situation. "Now, who's taking care of your daughter while you're on the road? I bet she misses her mommy."

"What are you talking about? These constant accusations of her home life were beginning to piss her off. "I'm not married. I don't have a daughter.." The sound of her phone ringing broke the tension. "I have to take this," she said, sneaking out around the corner.

"Managing some of those investments?" he quipped.

She waved him off. "No, I just have to deal with something."

"Jealous lover?" She shot him an angry glance. "Just take it here, I don't mind," he smiled.

"Hi Dave, what's going on? No, she has more Glucerna it's just out in the garage...No, I can wait while you look for it." She refused to acknowledge Jon's presence during the silence on the other end. "Yup. No, to the left of grandpa's tool chest. I know, but she said she likes the chocolate better. She's asking for vanilla?" Liz bit her lip in frustration.. "I can talk to her," she said. Covering the phone, she whispered an apology to him. "No, Dave it's ok, put her on the phone. Hi Nana. I know he told me. I bought the chocolate though because that's what you said you...I know, Nan. I'll buy you some vanilla when I get back, but will you drink the chocolate one until I see you on Wednesday? I know it's a long time. Love you, Nana. Thank you. Can I talk to Dave again?...She's fine. Thank you for calling though. No, please call with anything. Anytime, Dave. Thank you." She briefly massaged her temples after dropping the phone back in her purse.

He watched her in silence, unsure of what to say. Liz walked back over and removed the last three stitches. She stared down at her feet, moving one foot in and out of her brown ballet flat. "You have me all wrong." Inside, she was screaming, desperate to tell him all the ways in which he was wrong, but she knew it wouldn't make a difference. The more she thought of everything she would say, the more emotional she became. Her tears began spilling out almost as soon as her explanation did. "My grandmother is dying of Alzheimers. She was diagnosed shortly after my grandfather died. Emotional events like that can trigger the onset. Dave is not my husband, he's her caregiver. My nana and grandpa raised me. I know you think I should be with my nana, caring for her, but this is what she wanted. Even when she was first diagnosed she told me not to change how I lived my life."

"...I'm sorry." He couldn't think of anything else to say in the moment to make her feel better.

"I'd like you to leave, Jon." She wiped a tear away on the cuff of her sweater. "Before you point out my mascara marks again."

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**Thanks for all the reviews! I'm seeing a ton of likes and follows - so you guys are liking it, but I'd love to know what you think of it. I love the feedback! Thanks again!**


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